Harry Potter & the Half Blood Prince
by MoonRunner90
Summary: Basically my futile attempt to create a story in the style of J.K.R, K to begin with, but the rating may change as the story develops.
1. Chapter One Remembrance

Chapter One

If you were just driving through Little Whining, through Privet Drive, you wouldn't be able to find anything out of the ordinary- the only slightly worrying thing that you might realise about that neighbourhood would be how strangely pristine it all was. Not a car unwashed, not a single weed in the borders: every lawn cut and shining in the sunlight as the light hit the morning dew beads. In fact, you would be _very_ hard pressed to find anything that wasn't exact, or dutifully organised; indeed, anything that wasn't perfect.

However, if you were to inspect every single house on the inside, especially a certain number Four Privet Drive- you might be shocked to find that not everything was going to plan…

"Potter! Come down here now boy…. I mean: please?"

Old mattress springs complained and squeaked as the weight it supported shifted from one area to the other, then sighed as it was removed completely. Shuffling footsteps made their way to the door as the occupant of the room crossed the room, then left. The boy made his way along the landing with slow, paced steps- creating as large a time space as he could between where he was, and where he had to be. A sigh escaped his maturing lips as he realised that he couldn't delay it any longer- grudgingly, he slumped down the overtly vacuumed stairs and made his way into the family kitchen. The sight that met the boy's vivid emerald eyes was a familiar one- but with a slight difference.

The Dursley's were sat around thesquare table, polished so well that it could be used as a mirror; in the centre sat the son of the family. Dudley Dursley had always been a rotund boy: from birth the doctors had recognised the signs of a baby that was going to become obese as he grew older- how right they were. The chair on which the boy was sagged around could barely stand his weight, and the boy noted with an inward smile, that the legs were beginning to buckle underneath the ever-growing weight. To his right, at the head of the table, sat his father: but while Vernon was large, he was not obese, merely big and stocky. His piggy little eyes swivelled in their sockets towards the door, straining to see if the boy he had called earlier had arrived, without turning his head. Noting that there was somebody in the door-frame, the eyes flicked back to the morning paper that had arrived minutes before. Finally, there was the mistress of the house, Petunia, who, with all the best will in the world- was horrible. Tall, bony and thin- Petunia had a very long neck, which supported a head that boasted thin pinched features, giving her remarkable similarities to a horse. She had a tendency to snap at people and simper to those who were her superiors, and Lord protect those who had anything to say against her flower border arrangements.

Normally, they would all have started yelling orders at the boy who was still standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, to cook the breakfast, make the coffee and then get out of their sight. Today however was different: instead of following a regular routine that had lasted for a good fifteen years, no-one spoke, only stared. Petunia was the first to react and, with a slight stutter, spoke.

"Good…good morning Harry. How was your rest? Slept well I hope!" this rather delirious greeting was finished with an attempted smile, but it turned out more like a twitch or a spasm. The other two members of the kitchen grunted their greetings then fell silent again. For the first time in years, the boy opposite from her smiled- well, smirked really.

Harry Potter was a fairly normal looking teenager: messy, raven-black hair that refused to be tamed; vivid emerald eyes that had the power to stop a person in their tracks and could so easily act as a window to his emotions. He was a fairly thin young man for a teenager of his age, but five years of Quidditch practice were visibly beginning to show and his fingers were long and slender, ideal for manipulating a broom's direction or for holding his wand. But, Harry's most distinguishing feature was a thin, lightening bolt scar that he had possessed since he was a year old; and it was this scar above all else that marked him out for who he was. Harry Potter was a wizard, and it was this that separated him from the three people staring at him with a mixture of fear and mistrust.

Less than a week had passed since Harry had got off the Hogwarts Express, signalling the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts; and also less than a week since his "good-bye" party had seen both him and his family off the platform with a few friendly words of advice. This is what Harry was smirking at; never before had he seen both his Uncle and his Aunt so terrified by anyone- including the night when they had, albeit through a shock drop in, met Hagrid, the half-giant, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts and also one of Harry's most admired and favoured people. As Harry had ran through the barrier on Platform 9 and ¾ to reach the Muggle side of the train station, he had been met by a group that he hadn't expected to see, and certainly hadn't expected to challenge his relatives….

He fought to contain himself and sat down at the table, but not before bidding them all a good morning. This was the fourth morning of his stay at the Dursley's home, and already he was beginning to feel the strain of being separated from the magical world; he missed receiving his mail when it arrived, and only being able to collect it a night: he missed being able to practice his magic when he wanted to, instead of practicing it as he pleased. All of these things were everyday activities in the wizarding world. He didn't want to spend much more time here- it was dreadfully slow and dull in this house, and his memories of that day at the Ministry were beginning to commandeer his dreams…

From that small moment of triumph at breakfast, the day passed, well, normally. The hours trudged by, every minute seeming like a millennia. However, his time at Privet Drive was rapidly drawing to a close- only Harry didn't know it yet.


	2. Chapter Two The Escort

Chapter Two

Five fifty in the afternoon; the sun was just setting, painting the sky with deep hues of orange, red and pinks. The people of Privet Drive were all beginning to settle down for the night and the Drive was bustling with cars and people heading home before it got dark, amidst the commotion, no one seemed to notice the small group of people hurrying down the road in a very tight knit formation. No one seemed to care that they were wearing cloaks and were holding what seemed to be long, thin sticks of wood, or that they muttering about how Muggle transport was becoming obstructive and a waste of time, or how the neighbourhood was far too pristine and perfect to be lived in by so many people. Indeed, no one seemed to realise that they were all headed towards the same destination, number Four Privet Drive.

Six o'clock. The Dursley family- including Harry- had just settled down to dinner; it would be too much to say that the atmosphere in the kitchen was a happy, or a tranquil one- but at least there wasn't any arguing or food being conjured at ninety mile per hour towards someone's face. The tense silence that had settled over the four diners was shattered when a knock on the door was heard. Harry, because of what seemed a regular job, rose from the table to answer the door, but his Uncle stopped him and sent his son instead. Perplexed, Dudley looked up from his shovelling and stared incredulously at his father, who merely asked him in a slightly more stressed tone to answer the door for the second time. Dudley's scream could have woken the dead, for standing on the door-step was the same group of people who had been seen heading towards the house but ten minutes ago.

Harry was the first to react, leaping from his chair with skill that would have shamed an athlete, he ran to the door to see what had cause his cousin to scream with such power. If he hadn't recognised who the people were at once, then he too probably would have screamed.

Standing on the threshold of the hall were five people: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Nymphodra Tonks, Alastor "Mad-eye" Moody and someone he would never have expected to see, his Potions master Severus Snape. Ron was the first to speak.

"Hallo Harry- your cousin can squeal a bit can't he!" Harry didn't know how top react. His gut reaction was to laugh, but his mind overpowered all other feelings.

"R…Ron, Hermione! What are you doing here?" his question was soon answered by a smooth, drawling voice- one which Harry had the least pleasure in hearing of all of the people assembled before him.

"Well, the break from school seems to have had an impact on you're sense Mr. Potter. I would have thought it would be obvious why we are here. Evidently not. We are your escort, you're coming with us." His Potions master raised his eyebrows before continuing. "Well, what are you gaping for boy, go and get your luggage! We can't stand outside all night you know."

This seemed to penetrate through the fog that had commandeered Harry's mind, in an instant, he opened the door wider for the company to enter and hared upstairs to his room. It wasn't long before the bellowing started, and it seemed that Uncle Vernon wasn't going to stop either.

"HOW DARE YOU ENTER THIS HOUSE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOME! YOU DON'T BELONG IN A NORMAL HOME: YOU DON'T BELONG HERE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE HERE! GET OUT, OUT I SAY!" The ranting and raving was cut short when a growling, gravely voice told Vernon to shut up, or he would be made to shut up- painfully. This however, just wound Petunia up into a frenzy; she yelled and screamed blue murder about how none of them were safe, how none of them should be here and how she wanted them out there and then or she would call the Police. A short sharp bark of laughter could be heard before the bubbling voice of Tonks piping up.

"And what would you tell them exactly? That your house had been invaded by a group of wizards and witches!" She did say more after this, but amid the screeching laughter and the yelling of Uncle Vernon and Petunia, it was drowned out: and Harry focused on getting his things together as quickly as he could.

When he was packed, with his trunk in one hand, cage and broomstick in the other, Harry heaved his luggage downstairs, hoping that the screaming match hadn't ended yet. He wasn't disappointed.

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley were all standing behind the table as if in hope it would provide some sort of barrier between them and the party that had arrived to take Harry away. Tonks was standing over by the sink, still giggling her little black soul out at the prospect of Petunia setting the Muggle police on a group of wizards and witches; Ron and Hermione were locked in a staring contest between themselves and Dudley- it was no surprise that they were winning, as Dudley couldn't seem to hold his cool under the stare of two wizards and witches. Moody was having a bellowing and threatening contest with both Vernon and Petunia, who kept shooting filthy looks at Tonks who couldn't stop laughing; and Snape was leaning in the doorway that linked the kitchen to the hallway with a definite and unhidden smirk plastered on his face. Looking at his expression, you would have assumed that he was watching a very bloody Quidditch match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff instead of a potentially risky operation. Placing his stuff down behind him, Harry coughed lightly before asking tentatively asking.

"Who's winning?"

Snape turned his head so that his gaze met Harry's (and it did too, it seemed that Harry had grown quite a bit during the week that he had been at the Dursley's). As their eyes locked, Harry could have sworn that he had seen a glint of mischief flickering in those deep ebony eyes. It vanished as soon as it had appeared though, and Snape turned his head back to the kitchen; nodding his head towards Ron and Hermione, he spoke.

"They want to have a word with you. I'll take these." With the merest flick of his wand, Harry's luggage in all of it's bulky and generally stubborn entirety shrank, zoomed over and settled itself in Snape's hand. Turning on his heel, he strode towards the door in his trademark silent glide; with his hand on the door handle, he turned around once more to address Harry. "If Moody wants to know where I am, tell him I'm at the house." and with that, he left- closing the door behind him with a neat snap. Without further hesitation, Harry darted into the kitchen in search of his two best friends. He didn't get very far because as soon as he had stepped into the kitchen, he was soon shoved back out of it as a bushy mess attached itself to him, squealing as it did so. Harry would have greeted the human limpet that was presently clinging to his upper torso, but all of the wind in his lungs had been knocked out of him on impact- so all he could do was smile and pat the head of his attachment. Although Harry loved Hermione as a brother would a very dear sister and could put up with that, he was very glad that his "brother" didn't follow suit but only sent his friend a toothy grin and waved. Ron then walked up to Harry to clap him on the shoulder and greet him in a very deep and insincere voice.

"Hello Mr. Potter. I'm very pleased to see you, but I'm afraid I couldn't bear to lose my dignity and hurl myself at you at ninety miles per hour. I wouldn't want you to get any wrong signals now, would I!" He then grinned again before speaking in a more Ron-ish way. "Alright mate? Have a good holiday so far- hope this lot haven't been bothering you." He indicated to the three quivering Dursley's who hadn't moved from their position behind the table.

"No, they've been okay actually, it would be too brash to say that they have been nice, but they haven't been starving me either." Ron was going to answer, but the gravely voice of Moody cut in.

"Glad to hear it Potter, glad to hear it. Now, where's Snape got to?" His magical eye was whizzing around in every direction of the house, including under the floor. He then gave up his search and confronted Harry who quivered- he'd never been able to get over having to watch Moody washing it in a glass of water.

"Do you know where he is?" Harry nodded before explaining that Snape had gone back to the house- this just set Aunt Petunia off again.

"A mental house I'll bet. It isn't safe to have people like YOU around. Get out, Lord only knows who you'll attack if you stay here any longer. Oh heavens! What are the neighbours going to say about this? They'll think this family has gone down hill- and I swear Mrs. Butterby across the road has started rumours going around about him and that blessed scar of his!" She was pointing at Harry of course when she said this.

Evidently getting bored of staying in a Muggle household, Tonks suggested that they left before Petunia fainted and Vernon burst the vein that was bulging dangerously on his temple. This is what they did. Moody set a silencing charm on both Petunia and Vernon and just growled at Dudley (it was all he needed to do to get control over him)- he then cheerfully told the two now silent adults that the effects would wear off in half an hour and motioned that the rest of the party left. As the group stepped out into the open, Moody pulled out a battered tuna can from his pocket- Harry and the rest of the group instantly recognised this as a portkey and all placed a finger on it. Within seconds Harry felt a tug on his nasal areas and the twirling sensation in his stomach told him that they were off. It wasn't long before he landed with a thump on the hallway floor in the house that Snape had mentioned: number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

The rest of the evening seemed to zoom by: Harry was informed by an ecstatic Mrs. Weasley that his luggage had been taken up to his rooms and everything he needed had been unpacked; he spent about a quarter of an hour saying hi to everyone, but he realised that not everyone was there: Lupin was missing. He was told that Lupin was off somewhere recovering from the Full Moon that had occurred last night and that he would be home soon. When he had made sure that everyone (except the portraits) had been acknowledged, he went up to his room to make sure everything was safe and intact- and to check if Hedwig had arrived safely.

As he was checking his things, it wasn't before long that it began to hit Harry where he was. The last time he had been in the house- Sirius had been alive, miserable but alive. For the first time in his life that he could remember, Harry felt the gut wrenching feeling of loss. A small battle ensued between Harry and his feelings- he would not cry, crying is for babies and he'd done his crying weeks ago.

These battles had been a common thing to Harry- for the first few days of the holidays, he would just need five minutes on his own and he would instantly feel Sirius's absence. He would then cry, and the tears would be so hot that they would scald his cheeks as they leaked from his watery eyes. He would mentally beat himself up at being so stupid for falling for one of Voldermort's tricks and then start searching for something to take his mind off it: but it was no use and the cycle would start all over again. Now though, the tears were not as frequent and would only come when he wasn't on his guard.

Something soon distracted him from his memories- the tantalizing smell of Mrs. Weasley's cooking was wafting up the stairs and under the door. Seconds after, Mrs. Weasley arrived at the door and announced that dinner was ready. Taking one last look at his things, Harry left the room and descended the stairs to go to dinner.


	3. Chapter Three House of Horrors

Chapter Three

Harry entered the kitchen and sat down on the chair closest to him. With a jolt, he realised where he was sitting; _Sirius always sat here_, he thought miserably and had to consciously stop a lump appearing in his throat. _No_, he thought,_ I will not let this get to me again- it's just a chair, at a table_.

He must have shown something on his face and when people asked how he was feeling, said that he was alright, just slightly tired from the day's exertions. Mrs. Weasley's voice sounded from the other end of the table.

"Are you sure Harry? You didn't look to good over there love." Again,. Harry reassured here that he was fine- then laughed as he explained that seeing Snape standing on his doorstep had been a big shock. This evidently didn't seem to satisfy Mrs. Weasley though.

"Oh, alright love, if you're sure. But you know you can always tell me if you need anything. I'm actually sure it might take some of that unnecessary weight off your shoulders if you tell me. No one should have to burden anything in silence on their own. Especially after all that you've been through lately "

Harry stabbed moodily at his potato and sausage- he knew what she was hinting that- and she wasn't being too subtle either. Why didn't she understand; he didn't want to tell anyone how he felt- there was nothing to tell! No-one would understand even if he did, they'd just try to say that they knew how he was feeling.

"I'm okay Mrs. Weasley, honest. I'm fine, I just don't want to talk about anything too deep at the moment- especially when I'm eating" Simple as it seemed, it was all he could summon up without turning the whole thing into an argument, and, with a headache already beginning to throb at the back of his head, he certainly didn't want to endure one of those. Or a lecture by Mrs. Weasley, come to that. However, unwanted as it was, this is exactly what happened.

"Yes, but Harry dear: you're still a boy. I'm not trying to degrade you, or take away the assurance that Sirius so confidently gave you; but while you are still a child, and I'm sure I speak for everyone in saying this," Mrs. Weasley paused to look around the table, daring the seated members to speak up against her, "you still need looking after and ultimately our _help_. Please tell me if you're upset, I can help- it's what a mother does." She looked earnestly in his direction, pleading with her eyes that he should understand.

Harry locked eyes with hers, he was flattered, but mainly stung by her words- surely she knew by know that, after all that he had been through and experienced, he wasn't a child! A timid voice piped up from the opposite end of the table.

"Well dear, maybe we should…um… let Harry decide whether he wants to talk about anything at the moment. After all, we can't make his decisions for him all of his life. We don't want to smother him too much, do we?"

An embarrassed and all to pregnant silence fell across the room as Mrs. Weasley turned in her chair to face her husband, placing all of her attention him, who- noting that he was in trouble- was slowly turning the same colour as his hair.

It was Mundungus who first broke the silence with an all too hurried suggestion of having some "stock" to look over and left the kitchen. The other members of the household, who had previously been stuck to their chairs in a petrified manner, soon seemed to spring to life. Bill jumped up from his chair, muttering something under his breath to the effect of checking the letter from Fleur had arrived and ran from the kitchen after Mundungus; Kingsley and Tonks looked at each other before claiming that they had to get back to Ministry to check some work that they had been previously working on and left in a very hurried manner. Alistair justified his excuse to leave, with a cough, that there was a sinister looking fireplace on the third floor that he wanted to look at and stumped out of the room. Charlie, recognising the tension in the air as a "pre-argument" situation, simply got up from his chair: only to return to grab the grinning twins by the scruff of their necks and haul them both out of the kitchen, knowing all too well that it would be best if they did not stay.

With unhidden dismay, Mr Weasley noticed that he would be left unaided to face inevitable the wrath of his wife and just sighed, took his glasses off and proceeded to polish them with the hem of his robes.

In just under five minutes, the party sitting at the table had decreased from a well rounded fourteen, to six: Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. All of them, bar Mrs. Weasley, wanted to leave rapidly as the others had done, but they didn't- out of shear terror and loyalty, they had remained behind. Hoping that his absence would stop the argument from occurring, Harry started to rise from his chair: albeit slowly. He was stopped mid-rise by a sharp bark of, "Harry, sit down please".

Although her eyes had not left her now quivering husband, Mrs. Weasley knew full well the other happenings in the kitchen around her. With a trembling voice, she addressed her husband.

"What do you mean _smother_ him, Arthur?"- She had stood up as she had been speaking, and now leaned forward on her hands that were placed firmly on the table in front of her. An audible gulp could be heard coming from Mr. Weasley's throat, before he finally gathered up his courage to squeak,

"Well, as I say dear: Harry is a young man now- and he might just want a bit of space right now." He paused and taking the silence from his wife as an invitation to keep going- he continued, albeit with a slight quaver in his voice.

" I know you're just trying to help dear, we all want to, but if Harry doesn't want to talk about anything that he's feeling, maybe we should just let him be. Besides, the staff are going to do all they can now to help him through his studies and we'll be here to help him through any emotional difficulties that he might encounter; even Severus has said that he would continue to teach Harry Occlumency again- provided that he doesn't look in his Pensieve any more." He finished with a small smile- although at first he had seemed quite scared, Mr. Weasley had built up confidence as he had kept going, despite the ever narrowing eyes of his wife.

"Are you saying I'm wrong Arthur in asking him to offload his stress? He's a child for goodness sake, he can't just suffer alone!"

"I know dear, I'm not saying he should, but if it's what he wants, then let him be. He'll come to us if he needs any help, wont you Harry?" Harry nodded his agreement. Mrs. Weasley then rounded on the other children- especially her own.

"And what do you two think about all of this?" she demanded, her voice squeaking with the increasing rage she was feeling. She fixed Ron first with her beady gaze, and demanded an answer with an authoritative sniff. Ron followed very closely in his father's footsteps, having noted that this might be the way to get out of an ear bashing. Finally, he plucked the courage to say a rather mature, and therefore unusual, comment.

"Well, I agree with both of you really, but in a way," Ron swallowed hard before speaking to his plate, "I disagree as well."

He looked up to find a very shocked looking Mrs. Weasley and a rather curious looking father. When prompted to explain his thoughts, he obliged, with more than a hint of worry in his voice. "Well, you both say that Harry is a wizard who has come of age- so surely that means he can make his own decisions- right?" With a nod from both of his parents, he continued, "So surely, it's up to him whether or not he tells us how he's feeling, what he sees in his dreams; sure he's still a teenager, but he is a mature one. He's gone through far in his school years than you have done in your entire lives, and with all respect, I doubt you ever will go through with anything like that." He concluded his comment on the situation with a shudder, "And I don't think I'd want to either."

For a moment, no one spoke. Each member of the small group was lost in their own thoughts: yet, predictably, it was Mrs. Weasley who spoke first. Turning to her youngest child, she asked all too calmly,

"I suppose you feel the same way too Ginerva?"

_Full name_, noted Ginny, _not good_. With a small sigh, she nodded: however, she didn't stop there. "Well, as Ron says, with all due respect Mum, Dad- it is up to Harry who he tells about his dreams and worries: and really, in my eyes, the best person to do that would be Lupin. He of all people knows what it's like to have nightmare-ish dreams, and loose a person dear to him. He's had a lot of that. Harry will also have Dumbledore to confide in if he needs any kind of advice or help."

Harry couldn't have felt more gratified towards Ginny at that moment. She of all people knew really how he was feeling; _she_ knew what it was like to see things, to have had Voldermort having some sort of control over his mind. Harry made a conscious effort and gave a half-smile in her direction; he was sent a sympathetic one in return. Mrs. Weasley looked at Hermione, silently asking her if she felt the same as the others- this however, had no affect what-so-ever as Hermione's attention was fully absorbed by a fluffy ginger rug that had appeared and had settled itself across her lap. This seemed to be the final straw for Mrs. Weasley.

"Well, fine! I'm only trying to protect Harry from anything- seeing as he hadn't had much of this is the past. Everyone just seemed to let him get himself into danger and get hurt, even his own doing. No-one was there to stop him running straight into that mess at the Ministry and help him see sense, so what's going to stop him waltzing straight into the Dark Lord's Inner Circle itself!" She shrieked hysterically, waving her arms around to try and add emphasis where it wasn't needed. A rather hoarse yet contrastingly calm voice sounded from the doorway.

"I will Molly."

Everyone turned to see a very tired and rather nettled looking Lupin standing in the threshold of the kitchen. The fire that had been lit in the room to keep up the warmth illuminated his care-worn, exhausted looking face that boasted new scratches and bruises, and an all-too-thin body that seemed to be swamped in robes that appeared to be two sizes too big for him. He stepped forward into the room and sat down in the chair that had previously been occupied by Kingsley, but his eyes had never left Molly. He took a while to cross his legs (he did this with a rather pained look on his face) before he spoke again in his usual, rational manner.

"I realise that we haven't, as we had promised that we would, looked after Harry very well when it comes to checking that he was alright, both physically and mentally. We made our mistake when we weren't exactly, what you could say completely _vigilant_ over him; and believe me Molly, it is something that I personally do not revel in." As he spoke, his voice seemed to grow more and more tired, but that did not hide the bite in that last comment. "I also realise that we need to improve our method of watching over him, seeing as you so rightly say that we did let him walk straight into the path of danger in the Ministry; but something that you must not forget to add in your lectures of our sloppiness in that area, is the fact that we did do our best to bring him back and get him out of that mess. A mess that we paid for most dearly." Lupin's voice seemed to cut through the silence of the room like a knife, adding even more emphasis to his words. His eyes, although reflecting the light of the fire, were completely cold and his mouth had formed a thin line on his already drawn-in face. Molly had sat back down in her chair and was being completely silent, her head bowing with every word that her challenger spoke. Now for most people, this might have been enough to silence a person, but not Mrs. Weasley. Hearing a pause in Lupin's speech, she looked up again- her eyes locked with his and she fought back with refreshed gall.

"I hear what you are saying Remus, but still with all due respect, that does not excuse what happened. That boy" she now pointed her finger with a sharp movement "needs to be protected twenty-four seven: no exception whatsoever. And I'm afraid, although I know that what you call "mistakes" are made: they cannot afford to be made here."

Throughout her speech, Harry had listened in unmasked fury. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Lupin had just given a very good way of ending a debate that could have turned into a full on row that could have cut deep wounds into both sides and had evidently hurt himself while doing so, and yet here she was challenging everything- again! A new voice joined the debate.

"Molly dear, don't make this any worse. We're all tired, no one really wanted this topic to arise like this; and I don't think any of us want to keep talking about it. Besides, what you have just said wasn't one hundred percent fair: no one could have prevented Kreacher from saying that Sirius wasn't here when Harry tried to find him, no one was in the house to say otherwise. There was _nothing_ any of us could do."

Mrs. Weasley broke her stare with Lupin to turn to face her husband, before quickly looking back to Lupin again. Realising that she wasn't going to be able to say more in front of the children, she ordered them to go to bed. While the others willingly obliged, Harry remained- fury etched in every premature line that had formed across his face.

"What are you going to say?" he demanded. He wasn't going to leave now that it had gone this far. He wasn't faced with much choice of whether or not he was going to bed, as Lupin spoke before Mrs Weasley could.

"Harry, please, just go to bed. I don't want you to hear any of this if it gets violent." Harry didn't challenge this- he could hear the plea in his ex-Professor's voice and didn't want to make him anymore weary or pained than he already was.

Back in their room, Ron couldn't stop talking about the row that had occurred downstairs.

"I've never seen him look so angry and sad at the same time, and Mum! Well, all I can say is that I'd love to be a fly on the wall when that argument really does start. What about you? Harry?"

Harry remained silent with his back turned towards Ron, hoping that he would think that he was asleep. But for the rest of the night, while Ron slept, Harry ran through the events in the kitchen over and over in his head, thinking how much Mrs. Weasley really didn't understand, and how much he was going to need Lupin as well as support him. It was no surprise that Harry didn't get to sleep that night.


	4. Chapter Four Tapestries Tears and Tables

Chapter Four

Morning. What little sunshine that made it through the clouds which littered the sky, met a new obstacle- Twelve Grimmauld Places' windows. Though you may not have been able to see it if you were walking by, the occupants of this particularly grubby house were all awake- and most were to be found in the kitchen, which had taken on a very different role than it had the night before.

Seated around the table, six teens were propping themselves up with their hands in to stop them from falling asleep- only five were successful- no-one bothered to try and revive Ron after his head hit the table with a dull thud after the fifth time it happened.

Much to the audible disgust of the teenagers, Mrs. Weasley had somehow come up with the idea that an early wake up call and a "spot of cleaning" would set the holiday off to a good and productive start: none of the children shared this view. However, they weren't going to be completely alone in their chores; Tonks was, as ever, more than willing to help around the house, and had somehow managed to drag a somewhat protesting Lupin out of his bed to put in his support. This, for Harry, made the morning plod by instead of its dreaded crawl; he didn't know why exactly, but whenever Lupin was in the room Harry felt safe: like he was back in the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, when Lupin was his Professor and mentor. These memories above all was what kept Harry going in these times- the warming knowledge that, although he might not have said it, Lupin would always be there to listen if Harry needed someone to talk to. Harry's reveries were broken when he heard one of the twins yelling rather heatedly about something.

"What do you mean "_lousy_"! Who do you know that could have pulled off a prank like that any better?"- Harry turned round just in time to see George (or was it Fred?) crossing his arms over his chest and staring beadily across the room: a dry chuckle could be heard coming from behind a very old and dusty tapestry opposite Harry.

"Who else? In our prime George, we could have run rings around you two: and I dare say I still could if I wanted to! Right, stand well back everyone." A rather dusty looking Lupin stepped out from where he had been, just in time to catch the heavy material in his arms. He looked at it for a second, his eyes roaming over the many intricately woven stitches and holes- before dumping it on the floor, dusting off his hands and looking over at the now thoughtful looking Weasley. A flash of panic crossed Lupin's face before he spoke, albeit hesitantly.

"Might I be as so bold as to ask why you have that look on your face? Or do I not want to know?"

An un-impressed female voice interrupted the conversation before the red-head had the chance to reply.

"Please don't encourage them Remus- they're bad enough as it is without you egging them on to complete more mischief. George, don't answer that question and get on with your work. I don't need you disrupting this."

Mrs. Weasley's second twin looked up with an indignant squeak.

"Mother! How could you say such a thing! George was merely asking an innocent question: and you know full well that we have resolved to ally ourselves with innocence. We promised you that. There's no threat of mischief making here!" A derisive snort came from the corner where Lupin seemed to be busying himself with the Tapestry, but not so busy that he was able to mutter something in which the phrase, "Innocent my tail!" could be distinguished. Turning back to his polishing, Harry smirked- it seemed that no matter how old he would get, the Ex-Marauder now struggling to roll up the very long and stubborn piece of material, would still have a way with words and tricks.

A week passed in the same fashion in the house that holiday: members of the Order passed in an out of the house every hour of every day- all with a mission to accomplish or to report on. Harry, on one rather unpleasant occasion, had the mis-fortune to literally bump into Severus Snape on his way into the kitchen as Snape was heading out of it. Needless to say a sarcastic comment followed this, before he swept out of the hallway and out into the street. As Harry was rubbing his arm to try and prevent the rapidly approaching pins and needles, Harry was sure that he felt a blast of warm air which seemed to ruffle his hair, before the atmosphere returned to it's normal cool temperature. Thinking no more of it that something from the kitchen, Harry shrugged this occurrence off and continued the action he had originally wanted to complete by walking into the kitchen. He was greeted by a slightly tense Mrs. Weasley: she was sitting down in the same place as he had seen her the night before breathing heavily through her nose- her face had gone a violent puce. The colour soon melted away when she saw Harry lingering in the doorway. She smiled, but as Harry had grown to recognise, it was a forced and none too genuine one. Harry sighed inwardly before he too put a smile on his face and stepped fully into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley stood up from the table.

"What did Snape want?"

"That's Professor Snape to you dear."

"Alright, **Professor** Snape then; what did he want?" Harry sat down, tilted his head to the side and waited for his answer. Mrs. Weasley seemed to stop and think for a moment, choosing her words before she spoke.

"It seems that Remus has, what I suppose you could call, had a little "chat" with him. Professor Snape came here looking for you to tell you that he is going to continue his Occlumency classes with you, for definite. I told him you were busy though, I didn't want to disrupt the good work you had been achieving." She watched Harry carefully as she said this- evidently testing the air after last night's occurrences. Harry nodded: although he might not admit it out loud, he was quietly relieved that Snape was going to do this- he didn't want a repeat of last year, especially after what happened. Standing, Harry went over to the fridge to get a drink- he didn't really want one, it's just that he wanted to do something: to relieve the tension that was now hanging in the air. He picked a glass from the cupboard and filled it with the orange juice that he had chosen, but all the while he knew that someone was watching him and, as he had thought it was, Mrs. Weasley's gaze had been the stare he had felt. He decided to challenge her on it- this soon proved to be a mistake.

"Mrs. Weasley, are you okay?" Then it happened. Mrs. Weasley let out a gasp, a short, high pitched one before she collapsed into her chair and let out a sob. Harry instantly regretted that he had investigated and slammed his glass down on the work surface; rushing over to her, he subconsciously put his arms around her and held her to him- remembering that Lupin had done that when Mrs. Weasley had encountered the Boggart in her room, and that it had calmed her down a bit. They sat like this for a while, Harry an immobile statue- his arms wrapped around a now subdued and hiccoughing Mrs. Weasley; they broke apart and Harry could see the full extent of Mrs. Weasley's face. Lines had been drawn across her face where there had been relatively flawless skin over her brow, and deep shadows had been painted beneath her eyes: Harry couldn't believe that this was the same woman that had been so cheerful in the past, that had always got a smile and a hug for everyone.

"I…I'm sorry Ha…Harry. I don't mean to be like this: I'm just so worried about you. I just want to look after you, like Sirius did but failed to accomplish because of those Blessed Death Eaters. I'm just trying to be the mother you never got to know- I just want to be happy…" And with that, she burst into even more tears and continued to sob into Harry's shoulder once more. Harry started to rock, all the time shushing and uttering stupid nothings into the distraught woman's ear: he hadn't meant to hurt her either, he just wanted to try and let the wounds heal, to leave the past behind. Distant footsteps on the floor above soon became nearer as they descended the stairs and a very worried Lupin burst into the kitchen.

"Is everything alright? I could hear crying." He stopped in the doorway, watching with a shocked expression at the scene before him: he knew Molly could break down sometimes, but never like this: and on **Harry's** shoulder- Harry! He crossed the room, before tentatively clearing his throat.

"Um, Molly- are you alright?" He had opened his mouth to say more, but Mrs. Weasley had already launched into an uncontrollable stream of apologies about her behaviour now and the previous night.

"I'm so sorry Remus! I didn't mean those things I said! I never meant to hurt anyone- especially you- oh please don't be angry at me!" She was now clutching at his robes before grabbing hold of him by his waist and started sobbing again. Now it was Lupin's turn to look alarmed- scared even. He put his arms around her and kept on saying the same two sentences over and over again.

"It' alright Molly, I'm not angry. You were just upset." He continued this for a few minute before pulling her away from him and, wiping the tears from her eyes, he spoke again.

"Molly, we all said harsher words than we should have done. I know I'm not proud of what I said to you, but it's in the past now- and that's how we should leave it." He smiled, "There now, that's better. For a moment there I thought we were going to have to build an ark- and Lord knows I'm terrible at M.I.Y"

Harry looked confused, but Lupin noticed this and explained that M.I.Y was similar to D.I.Y- except it stood for Magic It Yourself.

That night, everybody was laughing and smiling at each other. The cleaning was done, Fred and George hadn't played a single prank on any one (much to Lupin's relief) and the air that had been very tense between Mrs Weasley, Harry and Lupin was peaceful once more.

Back in their bedrooms, the dog star shone brightly in a young boy and wolf's eyes.


	5. Chapter Five New Person, Old Relationshi...

Chapter Five

"Harry, Harry dear. Come on now, wake up- you've got to buy your school equipment remember? Come on now- I know you can hear me."

A hand was gently yet firmly shaking Harry's shoulder through his duvet- well, more of a heap really, but it was only that since he had slept in it and made it the nest it had become. A groan satisfied Mrs. Weasley that there was life underneath the blanket and she left without another word. It was another quarters of an hour before he eventually peeled himself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom to wash, dress and get ready for his trip to Diagon Ally. Awake, Harry guided a semi-conscious Ron down the stairs and into the kitchen where the latter was sat down in a chair; Harry greeted the assembled people with an incline of his head and a "Good Morning" each. It wasn't long before the children and adults who were accompanying them had eaten and were ready to leave: bar one- when Harry had asked Ron if he was ready, he didn't get a reply. Ron had fallen asleep in his cornflakes, milk and all. The only noise that could be heard in the kitchen at that moment was the click of a camera as George took a picture- for memories sake of course.

The party arrived in Diagon Ally at roughly twelve o'clock, the party soon split up to go about their separate chores. Fred and George had to check if their business stocks had arrived and left for the Owl Office; Mr. And Mrs. Weasley went off to have coffee and tea in a near by café; Lupin wanted to go to Flourish and Blotts to see if the books he had ordered had arrived yet- so that just left Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny to go and buy their supplies.

"What have we got to get then?" Ron asked as the group set off in their chosen direction; Harry checked his list. He had most of the usual things: a quill, another set of weighing scales (Neville had broken his), a new set of Quidditch robes- his old one were getting slightly tight and had been darned more times than he could remember, and then there was the new list of books. Even Hermione had to admit that there was a lot of them to get. "Advanced Transfiguration" by Emma Newt, "Advanced Potions" Level Three, Four and Five by Ethelgar Cauldron, Archibald Bloom's "Herbology- the Good, the Bad and the Poisonous", "Advanced Charms" by Thelma Teapot and the complete collection of books by Lucia Nirethyls- "Darks Arts- Defence and Attack. Advanced Level"- there was only one book to get, but it contained all seven books. Ron and Ginny both looked up at the mention of that name.

"Lucia Nirethyls? Are you serious? Lemme look!" Harry handed over the list and continued walking. He had walked about ten paces before he realized that the others weren't following. He looked back, sure enough, they were all standing where he had left them; sighing, he turned to join them. Ron was stammering something.

"Nirethyls…Nire… bloody hell, Harry, this is great!" Harry's brain by now had seemed to automatically recognise now that there was still a long was to go before he realised who all the important people in Ron's life were. So instead of looking confused, he calmly asked.

"Who is she?" Ron was silenced- he looked at Harry as if he had just asked who he supported in Quidditch. Ron jabbered something for a few seconds before he was able to successfully string some words together.

"Who is… Harry mate! Surely you've heard of Lucia Nirethyls! She's probably the most adept female Auror there is! Plus she's part of the oldest pure-blood family in this country- you've got to know her." Harry sighed and shrugged, shaking his head at the same time. Ron gasped- it was a while before he spoke.

"Ok, let me fill you in here: Lucia Nirethyls is the second eldest child of five, three boys and two girls. I don't know all of the boys' names, but I do know the youngest boys' name and that's Cassius, the second girl is called Georgiana. Now, are you listening, it gets a bit tricky here. Right, The two older boys became Death Eaters, much to their father's… oh, by the way, the mother and father are called Marcus and Sarah- any way, anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, they became Death Eaters which pleased their father no end, but Cassius didn't believe that they should become servants to a half-blood- oh, no offence mate- and the two girls wouldn't become Death Eaters either: so their father tried to disown them, but their cousins' parents stepped in and stopped him. They still left though- they own a manor in Devonshire now- and well, I don't really know much else other than Lucia became an Auror and now, blimey- her own set of books…… I don't know if I'll be able to afford the entire set."

Harry blinked: never before had he seen Ron so excited about something other than Quidditch: this was evidently an event that would go down in History. Neither had Harry thought that Ron had the ability to talk about something so vigorously for a good five or ten minutes fluidly without breathing- this was definitely an event that would be marked in Ron's history. Hermione broke the heavy silence: well, it was only heavy due to Ron's eventual and much needed breathing.

"Do you mean to tell me Ron, that you are actually disappointed in not being able to afford a _book_! Well, I've heard my dad saying that a boy's attitude towards his education can take on a dramatic transformation- but this is just amazing!" Ron was about to answer when a small cough interrupted him and Ginny spoke.

"I think you'll find Hermione that Ron has the hugest crush on her, and that he will always read an article or book mentioning her name." Now Harry was impressed- not only did Ron read the newspaper's headlines- but he also read through articles just to see her name! He had to know more about this witch.

"How old is she? Twenty, thirty?" Ron opened his mouth to answer, but yet again Ginny did it for him.

"She's forty-one." An amazed and all too embarrassed silence fell over the group once more, Ron contributed the silence part to the pause. Harry soon found himself doing something that he thought he wouldn't hear again for a long time: he was laughing. He couldn't believe it- Ron, the boy who Harry had grown to think didn't have crushes on anyone above the seventh year: and yet here was the unveiled truth, Ronald Weasley had a crush on someone who was in her forties: easily as old as his… Alarm bells suddenly started screaming in his ears: if this Auror Ron was so obsessed with was forty-one, then she was roughly the same age as Lupin, or Sirius, or Snape: she would be the same age that his parents would be now if they were alive. Harry's heart started thumping violently: here night be someone else who had known his parents, and might be able to provide him with a bit more information than he had already. He had to speak to Lupin when he got back to Grimmauld Place- he had to know more about this mysterious Gryffindor.

The group did eventually manage to buy their equipment- after Harry's infection of laughter had finally died away and Ron's complexion had returned from beetroot to normal peach, the four friends started walking again and returned to the original topic in hand: the list. First they got their quills, Hermione took great care in selecting hers: it seemed that she was trying to get back at the remark that Draco had made about her old one ("Too smart for a Mud-blood eh? I'll show him the meaning of smart- I'll write it all over his face next time I see him!"); next stop-Quidditch robes. Both Harry and Ron took a great deal of time looking over the newest broom kits, and the shop keeper was very surprised when Harry took a "So, You've Got A Firebolt?" to the front desk: evidently he didn't think students could afford a Firebolt, but then, Harry didn't buy his. The scales were bought next, and Harry made sure he got a pair of sturdy ones- just in case Neville asked to borrow his set again. Finally, it was time to buy their books- so the group headed off to Flourish and Blotts. Ron chided and grumbled all the way to the counter about it being too heavy, but everyone knew that really he couldn't wait to start reading it. After buying his, Harry flicked through a couple of the pages in the first book: he was impressed. Not only was it a huge, red leather bound book with all of the words stamped deep into the cover, spine and back in gold, but was there coloured, moving demonstrations of the hexes in motion along with their written teaching, a timeline of when they were first discovered, who by and a short description of the effects when cast properly and (interestingly) incorrectly. Harry made a mental note to include some of this in the D.A. meetings- if he was allowed to continue them that is.

The whole party arrived back at the house about half an hour later, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were looking over the new equipment and making comments about all of it; Hermione was already nose deep in the Transfiguration book (and mastered everything she had learnt no doubt), Ginny was playing with Crookshanks again and Ron had joined Harry in reading the Defence Against the Dark Arts book. However, while Ron seemed to be completely absorbed in reading, Harry only scanned the texts: "_this woman might have known my parents"_ this seemed to be the only thing that resounded in his head- that and the annoyance that he hadn't managed to pin Lupin down for some serious questioning yet. He still hadn't managed to by the time supper was served, and by then everyone was exhausted, and Harry really didn't want to start probing Lupin's memories while everyone was trying to relax. "_I'll ask him tomorrow_" he thought as he watched the ex-Marauder chatting happily to Mr. Weasley- and with that, he joined the debate that was now roaring to life between Hermione and Ron whether or not homework was a complete and utter drag.

Right, if you're reading this chapter: then I can only say one thing. Thank You! Please review if you felt it was slightly more bearable than having your teeth pulled out: it does lift the spirits somewhat!

"**Thank You" list**

**JEDIKNIGHT32:** Thanks for the encouragement- and I'm glad you hoped to see another chapter- hope this one will satisfy you too! I'm going to get round to reading yours- I've been a bit bogged down with work for quite a while now, so I will read it- Brownie Promise!

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	6. Chapter 6 The Unidentical Twins

Chapter Six

Dawn, to one man, had always been the most beautiful- if not most peaceful- part of the day: it also marked the end of the previous and the beginning of the new.

Remus Lupin was leaning on the windowsill breathing in the morning air, every so often sighing as he leant too hard on his left (now thoroughly battered) hand or on his right leg (which was now missing five goodly sized slashes of flesh after trying to tear his leg apart three nights previously). Other than rising at this hour to watch the sun rise- as had become a what seemed to be a time honoured tradition in his life- Remus had woken up because of a fitful and restless night; try as he might, his mind kept on returning to all of the previous, bad memories, or the "Unpleasants" as he had dubbed them both in the day and, more frequently, his sleep. One particular memory was of the argument that he had unwittingly walked into two nights ago in the kitchen: Molly Weasley's words refused to cease circulating around his mind, even now he could hear the mother's somewhat hysterical and exceptionally cutting words.

"_Everyone just seemed to let him get himself into danger and get hurt, even his own doing. No-one was there to stop him running straight into that mess at the Ministry and help him see sense, so what's going to stop him waltzing straight into the Dark Lord's Inner Circle itself!"_

"_I hear what you are saying Remus, but still with all due respect, that does not excuse what happened. That boy needs to be protected twenty-four seven: no exception whatsoever. And I'm afraid, although I know that what you call "mistakes" are made: they cannot afford to be made here."_

He snorted, dislike those words as he did, he couldn't help but agree with Molly; they _had_ let Harry just waltz into trouble: _he_ had let Harry just waltz into trouble, he had let his guard drop assuming that Harry's Occlumency lessons were continuing without fault,

"I'll never forgive myself," he muttered into the now lightening sky, "I'll never be able to look at that boy and realise how stupid I have been, how I have helped deprive him of yet _another_ person whom he had grown to love." The werewolf shook his head, the premature silver hairs that graced his tawny cut glinting in the sunlight; he slammed his fist on the windowsill, cursing not only for his foolishness for allowing himself to relax to recover after what could only be described as a horrible full moon, but also for slamming his left, damaged hand on the hard sill and for adding yet more time for it to heal. Gingerly rubbing his hand, trying to get the blood circulating again, he sighed again. It had become a habit of his trying to remember all of the scars on his body, and how he had got them: his hands, of course, were a particular favourite as they were clearly visible and easy to look at. If he wanted to, he could easily name all twenty three (yes, he did keep count of them too) scars and their causes: the easiest to recall and find was a single scar that ran the length of the inside of his left hand, from the finger tip of his middle finger to the bottom of his palm. This scar, however, did not bear any "Unpleasant" memory; in fact it was a scar Remus was gladdened and yet saddened to have.

He had received this scar by slicing his hand open- somewhat reluctantly- with a knife so that a small scarlet river flowed down his open hand, after Sirius had sliced his; it had always been something Sirius had wanted to do, to become blood brothers with Remus. Ever since finding out that Remus was a werewolf, Sirius had felt that he could tell Remus of his problems, and he always knew that Remus would listen and try to help him wherever he could. This is why Sirius had proposed this suggestion to Remus, not realising how much it meant to the younger wizard. Both had promised each other that they would always be there for the other, and would always do anything that they could to help the other and honour the promises they made.

Thirteen years later, after Sirius had escaped from Azkaban and narrowly escaped the Dementor's kiss after the Shrieking Shack encounter, it seemed that Sirius still remembered Remus's promise to help the other with whatever the other demanded (provided it wasn't something to do with killing Snape, a plea Sirius had often asked for and Remus always refused), as two nights after Sirius escaping for the second time on Buckbeak, Remus received a letter composed in a very serious tone.

'Remus,

My friend, I must ask you to remember and honour the promise you made to me all those years ago when I ask you of this: please, do whatever it takes to look after Harry, as I feel that it will be a very long time until my name is cleared with the Ministry to be able to do so myself. I am sorry to burden you with this old friend, I know it will be a gargantuan task to undertake and I know it will not be an easy commitment for you either, but I feel that you are the only one who can.

I must end this letter, I do not like sitting in one place for a long time as you well know, and my ink is beginning to run out. Do not let me down Moony.

Take care brother'

Remus sighed, that last short line had haunted him everyday since that fatal moment at the Ministry, 'Do not let me down Moony'. A single, scalding hot tear ran down his scar ridden face: he had let him down, and he couldn't bear it.

A creak of the door announced someone entering the room, and as Remus had expected, it was Kreacher. The old elf shuffled into the room, muttering and mumbling as he went, every so often shaking his head making his huge, bat-like ears flap wildly around his pinched face. If the elf had noticed Remus, he didn't show it and merely continued his slow journey to the bed at the other end of the room. By the time he had reached the bed, Kreacher had pulled out something long and sharp looking from his rags: something that seemed to glint in an unpleasant and mocking way to the wolf still standing at the window across the room- it was a silver letter opener.

"_Filthy half-breed_, oh my poor mistress, how would she react if she knew that her faithful servant had allowed such a _freak_ to remain in her house? Never mind now, Kreacher will put an end to his _unclean_ presence: Kreacher will not allow him to…"

"Good morning Kreacher, what would you be doing in my bedroom at such an early hour of the morning?" Despite himself, Remus couldn't help but smirk at the elf's startled reaction to his sudden, yet perfectly polite, comment. The elf didn't seem to be able to make up his mind on what he should do first- he started to bow, then opened his mouth roughly six or seven times before apparating out of the room with a loud _snap _taking the letter opener with him.This incident came as no surprise to Remus: over the past few weeks, he had encountered the elf in a number of similar events, all of which involved an item made of silver which he assumed were meant to harm if not kill him. None of these incidents had affected Remus in the slightest, but it seemed that noise of the sudden apparation had; the residents of Twelve Grimmauld Place were beginning to stir and move around.

This seemed to rouse the tired man from his thoughts enough for him to realise that he now had no choice but to get up efficiently and go downstairs to see what challenges the day ahead would bring. It was a further hour until the whole household had followed the same regime as Lupin and had all assembled in the kitchen around the table.

Everyone who had been present in Twelve Grimmauld Place when the apparation happened had jolted awake from their deep and peaceful slumber, bar two people: Lupin and Harry.

Ever since his new found discovery the day before, Harry had not been able to clear his mind of the new and exciting possibility of finding out more and being one step closer to knowing who his parents were. He had to talk to Lupin today, otherwise he might not be able to get the chance before he went back to Hogwarts; Harry's train of thought was broken by a snort, the sound of creaking mattress springs and finally a loud _thump_ as a dead weight hit the floor. Harry didn't even need to look to see what had hit the floor but a few seconds ago- he knew it was Ron falling out of bed again, probably still wrapped like an Egyptian mummy in his bed sheets: chuckling, he rolled over so that he was facing his friend, lying on his side. Ron, as he had suspected, was still cocooned in his bed-clothes, the duvet on the far end of the bed where it must have been kicked off,

"Morning mate, sleep alright?" His answer was a 'humph', barely audible through the tightly bound linen around his friend's body. Taking this as the most response he would be receiving, Harry sat up, looked around for his glasses and finally got up out of bed to get washed, dressed and head downstairs for breakfast. When Harry pushed the kitchen door open, his nose was suddenly bombarded by the delicious smells of a full English breakfast, but it wasn't being cooked by the person he'd thought it was. Lupin was standing by the kitchen counter humming a tune whilst simultaneously preparing and cooking- with the help of a few well placed charms, breakfast for what seemed to be an entire army. He stopped what he was doing when Harry fully pushed the door open, omitting a small creak: smiling at him, Lupin indicated to a chair.

"Sit down Harry, this will only be a couple more minutes." Harry did as he was told, slightly shocked that his ex-Professor had undertaken what had always been Mrs. Weasley's job. He was even more surprised when a heavily loaded plate came zooming over to where he was sitting, shortly followed by an empty glass and a carton of orange juice. He was still staring at the plate when Lupin came over with a cup of tea and two slices of toast for himself.

"Are you alright Harry? I know my cooking isn't brilliant, but you do realise that the stuff before you is _food_ and not a creature that will bite your face off!" Harry looked up to see the smirk on Lupin's face slowly beginning to subside: pulling his wits together, he finally managed.

"Y…yes, I'm fine thanks; just a little shocked at, well, this." Harry gestured to the plate before him with a wave of his hand. This time a smile graced the chef's face.

"Yes, well: I thought maybe Molly could do with a rest this morning, goodness knows she needs it. I was being serious though, are you okay? You seemed a bit quiet when you came back from Diagon Alley yesterday. Do you need to talk about something? If not, I'll just shut up." Harry's turn to smile now: no matter how hard some people tried to make Harry feel at ease, none of them could do it half as well as Lupin. He just seemed to know how to approach a topic, and then recognise the signs of when to back off and leave a subject when it was needed. Now, he thought, now I can ask him.

"No, I'm fine in that respect thanks, but I do need to ask you one thing though." Lupin finished taking a sip from his cup, before putting it down and spread his hands wide before him.

"Fire away Harry. I'll do my best to answer whatever it is."

"Okay can, can you tell me who Lucia Nirethyls is? It's just that, well I found out yesterday that she was in Gryffindor, going to Hogwarts at the same time as you. I was just wondering if…"

Lupin nodded as he finished,

"If I knew her. Is that what you meant?" A nod was all that was needed for him to continue, "Yes I knew her, although I severely doubt she really knew me. If I'm right Harry, I believe you're asking me if she knew you're parents: am I right? Yes, well at least that is a piece of information that I can confirm without any form of doubt. I can also say that she used to be friends with your mother, Lily; they couldn't go anywhere without the other, something that earned them the name "The Un-identical Twins"."

Harry sat up, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as if it was going to burst out of his ribcage any moment now. Licking his lips, he asked.

"Do you know where she is know? Do you know what happened to her after you all left Hogwarts?" An odd colour had settled across Lupin's face at this particular question. He seemed to take his time before he eventually answered, with a slight shake in his voice.

"I, I'm not sure I know the truth behind all of the rumours that I heard about her actions after she left Hogwarts, but I do know that almost immediately after she left she joined the Ministry as an Auror- something I've no doubt you've picked up from Ron." Sensing Harry's un-spoken plea for him to continue, Lupin recalled, "She was a very gifted witch, something that her pure-blood family had given her through their joining: and it was because of her family and their reputation as one of the darkest families known, she wasn't trusted, she never was really- but something about her was so like Sirius that people naturally grew to like her. As I said she was uncommonly gifted, and was exceptionally talented in everything that she applied her mind to: especially in Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts, so it's no surprise that she figured out my condition years before the others did; but oddly she remained quiet about it- that's really how I got to know her, how I came to trust her above all of the others, yes even Sirius. I can't say much else, only that we maintained a good friendship throughout our time at Hogwarts and for a few years after before… before your mother and father were killed and Sirius was put in Azkaban."

Harry frowned, what did he mean "_for a few years after_"- surely if he was speaking about her like that, then they were still good friends. A voice interrupted his thoughts,

"Yes, you would believe that they would have remained friends wouldn't you, Potter." Both of the people sitting at the table whirled round to see Snape leaning in the doorway: his arms folded over his chest, expensive black robes draped around him and seemed to swirl around his body as though a wind were rippling through them. Stepping into the room, he spoke again.

"They didn't though: Lucia moved to the Ministry to become an Auror because she fell for the poison that was spilled into her ear about werewolves being spies for the Dark Lord: but she became a highly successful Auror and actually did something with her life that can be seen as positive." His trade mark sneer licked like a flame across his face as he looked at the other adult in the room. "However, it takes no imagination to know what Lupin did after that incident- if you can't- and I wouldn't be surprised if you can't, it wasn't anything productive." He had opened his mouth to say more, but Lupin had leapt up out of his chair and was standing in front of Snape before anyone had the chance to blink.

"And I suppose that you did something productive didn't you Severus? Sitting on the fence waiting to see who would come out on top always was a useful job wasn't it!"

"Speaking of jobs Lupin, have you found anywhere that would even look at your record before turning you down? Looking at the state of your robes I'd say not."

This time it was Lupin's turn to laugh.

"And the same to you Severus, Potions robes again I see! I'd heard you'd been pipped at the post again. Tell me, who was it that has managed to beat you to that role this time?"

Snape didn't answer, it seemed that Lupin's quick return had sliced his self-esteem deeply, as he merely turned a paler shade of gone of cream and left the room- slamming the door behind him. Harry hadn't had the chance to ask him who this new teacher was, because Mrs. Weasley's voice floated into the room- despite being a somewhat uneasy kind of floating.

"Everything alright Remus? What did Severus want?" Lupin looked at Harry before turning to Mrs. Weasley with a smile and said lightly.

"Not quite sure Molly, didn't really get that far to be perfectly honest- we became slightly caught up in old-school affairs. Anyway, only one thing to say now: good morning and umm, would you like some breakfast? I think I've made enough for all of us."


	7. Chapter 7 Duels, Devils and Dachshunds

Chapter Seven

Ever since Professor Snape's remark in the kitchen and Lupin's refusal to enlighten to Harry who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was going to be, Harry didn't stop conjuring up ideas and images of new and exciting people who might fit both of the adult's remarks. In fact, he still hadn't stopped wondering who this new person was when he, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were racing through the barrier that separated the muggle platforms and the wizarding Platform 9 3/4.

No matter how many times Harry had seen that train, he still stopped and let his eyes wander over the engine's scarlet husk, jet black chimney and gold-rimmed wheels for a couple of minutes before suddenly snapping back to reality when he realised that the train was about to go. When they were all aboard, Ginny excused herself so that she could go and find her friends who were sitting in one of the many carriages that this train had to offer: leaving the trio to go in search of their own carriage to sit in. Harry let his mind wander as he helped his friends look for an empty carriage- the main topic that seemed to be consuming his mind was who the new teacher was going to be. The new and uplifting thought of "_It's nice to be going back to Hogwarts again_" was shattered when a cold, drawling and seemingly utterly bored voice penetrated his thoughts.

"Well well, look who were have here: Pottery, Weasel and the second half of beauty and the beast. I had hoped I wouldn't have the inconvenience of running into you so soon, but it seems that the fates are against me. Pity."

Harry turned to see the three people he despised the most standing right behind him. Draco Malfoy was leaning lazily against one of the compartment doors, while his two homosapian bodyguards Cabbe and Goyle stooped behind him- leering with an un-intelligent grin plastered over their thick set faces. Sensing both of his friends were having difficulty enough controlling their urge to wipe the smirks off all three of the Slytherins' faces, Harry himself addressed the ring-leader.

"Alright there Malfoy: how's your dad? Have you spoken to him recently- or would that be too difficult for you as you would have to talk through bars?" This evidently stunned the blonde before him as his jaw dropped, unable to speak. It only took him a matter of seconds though before the old Malfoy came back and, with a sniff, added haughtily.

"You want to be careful what you say Potter- I could have you reported for that. Bet you wouldn't like that would you- or that oaf of a half-breed that seems intent on smothering you as if he were your father and you were his son. I suppose you could have worse with Weasel's mother: but then I guess the werewolf would be a better option- seeing as Weasley's mother can barely support her own family and the wolf actually has money in his account!" A _swish _swiped past Harry's ear as Ron thrust his wand at Malfoy's face: which was now beginning to lose its smirk. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the wand shaking as Ron's anger was causing his whole body to tremble. A second, more authoritative swish backed up Ron's as Hermione raised her own wand so that it was level with Draco's eyes; Harry's wand on the other hand remained in his pocket. He was having difficulty trying to weigh up which insult he most despised: ever since his third year, Harry had always seen Lupin as a sort of father figure, even when Sirius was alive: but then again Mrs. Weasley had been a maternal icon for him ever since his first year at Hogwarts.

He didn't have long for his thoughts to be broken by a shaking voice: Ron's.

"You…. you take that _back_ Malfoy!" He yelled, causing a couple of passing third years to squeal and run into the nearest compartment. Malfoy on the other hand was laughing.

"Or you'll what exactly Weasley! Poke me with that stick of yours? I bet that's the most you could do with that splinter of wood- let alone cast a spell!" He burst out laughing, only to fall silent again when a cold voice interrupted.

"He wont be the only one Malfoy- I'll hex you into oblivion if you say one more word about Mrs. Weasley or Professor Lupin. I meant it!" Two grey eyes looked Hermione up and down before Malfoy snorted and told the other two wizards to follow him. Harry, Ron and Hermione watched three backs start making their way back down the train, before turning their own to continue the way they had originally intended on going. A yell of "LOOK OUT!" made them whirl back round again as three identical hexes zoomed towards them; Harry was able to conjure up a defensive shield just in time, but Ron and Hermione fell back with a surprised yelp onto the train floor. In seconds a full on duel had commenced and six wands were whirling deftly and furiously as the owners cast individual and ever more complicated (and often dark from the Slytherins) at their opponents. They had been duelling for about a minute when something happened that neither Harry nor the other four wizards and singular witch had never seen or experienced before. A blinding, thin white light burst into life and spread out until it had spread from the floor to the ceiling in front of one of the compartment doors: it seemed to act as a reflective surface as all six hexes were forced back towards it's charmer. As though it were a reflection in a mirror, the three Gryffindors and Slytherins dived to the floor as the hexes zoomed by past them- all gasping for air as the wind was knocked out of them both by the surprise and the sudden impact with the floor. Then, as quickly as it appeared- the screen vanished: however, as it disappeared back into thin air, the door it had appeared before slid open and a snarling black dog leapt out from the compartment.

The beast was huge: its imposing thick leather collar was covered with silver studs- giving the animal an increased look of strength; long, glossy, heavy fur covered the animal's body as if it were a large travelling cloak; the animal's eyes glinted dangerously as the light reflected in the slanted red-streaked orange eyes: it's teeth were pure white, at least four inches long. Hermione gasped as it began to slink towards them, it's belly dragging across the floor, paws making a scratching sound, as it's long black claws caught on the carpet. It came to a stop inches from where the three Gryffindors stood transfixed: Harry placed himself before the other two and took out his wand again; he looked the dog straight in the eyes and threatened.

"Come one step closer and you'll be hexed into oblivion!" Suddenly, as if the dog had been slapped, it stopped snarling and at once it's once fierce looking features softened. Ears, which had once lain flat across its skull, now pricked forward and as it had done before, it started to crawl across the ground towards Harry. Harry's grip on his wand tightened, and he steeled himself for the worst: but what happened next shocked him to the core of his being. The dog looked up at Harry and licked his left hand, whimpering all the while as if apologising for its earlier behaviour, before sitting back on it's haunches, panting like a normal dog would around a friend. None of the three young teens spoke: their sprits in tatters after being in a duel which involved them slamming themselves to the floor to avoid their own curses being reflected off a wall of light, they were then rudely introduced to a dog whose behaviour suggested that it had just leapt out of the pits of Hell before watching the steely behaviour melt away as if it were snow on a summers day.

A vice like grip constricted around Harry's upper arm: Ron was breathing heavily and whimpered,

"Harry, look towards the door. Mate, it's her!" Harry twisted his arm out of the lock and looked towards the door himself, wanting to know who this "her" was. His heart thudded once in his chest before stopping completely for a second. Standing in the doorway of the compartment where the dog had appeared from, was someone Harry recognised instantly thanks to Ron showing him pictures of her: leaning on the door frame was none other than the Auror Lucia Nirethyls. She was a fairly tall and slim, her black and navy blue robes fell around her like exquisite drapery and her long golden-brown hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall. Harry's eyes glued themselves to her waist and hip area: a thick, black leather belt sheathed an elegant short sword, a long curved dagger, her wand and- strangely, a gun with two pouches of what Harry presumed were bullets. His eyes flicked back up to her face where he saw a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth: her grey-blue eyes alive with a lifetime of emotions, more prominently laughter at this moment. At last she spoke, her eyes flicking between the three teenagers and the dog.

"Oblivion, heel." She snapped her fingers and gestured to her side: the dog obeyed. Scratching the head lovingly, Nirethyls now locked eyes with Harry. "So, unless my eyes are deceiving me, you must be Harry," her eyes roamed over to Hermione, "and you are miss Granger? Hmm, I thought you were: you've got quite a reputation young lady: brightest witch still in school. So that must mean that you," Ron gulped as her grey eyes met with his brown, "are Mr. Weasley. I don't even need to ask if that's your name: you're the spitting image of your father- you're nose is slightly longer than his though." She paused, evidently lost in thought: a small, pathetic whimper sounded from the doorway. Nirethyls turned round and, looking down at the floor level, said.

"Kaiser, come here."

_Another dog_, thought Harry, _what's this one going to be like_! What appeared from the doorway though made Harry laugh out loud. A small, black and tan long-haired Dachshund puppy padded round the doorframe and bounded (much as a puppy can bound) towards his mistress: yapping all the way. Ron's mouth was hanging open, almost in an identical way to Harry's: Hermione on the other hand managed to coo.

"Oh, he's adorable! How old is he?" Having swept the now wriggling, wagging puppy into her arms, Nirethyls answered her question without even looking up.

"Just over five weeks." With a last loving scratch behind the ears, she placed the puppy back on the floor, which promptly went up to Oblivion and started to chew his ear. Harry blinked, his mind was reeling: this was the woman who once was friends with his mother- described by Remus Lupin as the second of the "Un-identical Twins", and yet she seemed nothing like the bouncy, cheerful Lucia Nirethyls that he had imagined.

Harry didn't have much time to try to work out this problem as the train had started to slow down already, announcing the soon arrival of the Hogwarts Platform. Bidding the children a brief goodbye, Nirethyls summoned her briefcase, a tiny leash ("_For the puppy no doubt_", thought Harry) and clicking her fingers, she walked off: her two dogs in-tow behind her. The teenagers were left standing where they had been when they had first faced Oblivion: Hermione was still dewy eyed over the puppy that could still be seen scuffling along at ankle level at the far end of the carriage; Ron and Harry were both dazed by the sudden, somewhat un-linkable events they had just witnessed. The train steamed to a halt, sending a slight judder down the many interlinked carriages that it towed. Harry, Ron and Hermione alighted from the train and set off in search of a carriage to take them up to the castle; Ron was very useful in this exercise, as he was able to look over the many heads of the teaming mass of children that were all trudging through the main gates. After a good five or so minutes of searching, Ron pushed through the crowd and jumped into a carriage, indicating that the others should follow his lead. The carriages quickly filled up, and within another five minutes, they were off: pulled all the way up to the castle by two reptilian horses, the Thestrals.

Before long, Harry and his friends sat down at the now familiar Gryffindor Table in the Great Hall, and were soon chatting to their fellow housemates and friends. Ron couldn't stop talking about his encounter with their new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.

"And then, she looked at me and said "So that must mean that you are Mr. Weasley. I don't even need to ask if that's your name"- she knows my name! Lucia Nirethyls knows my name! I can't believe it- she must know dad, otherwise how else would she have known me? She knows about me…" A dreamy, awe filled smile spread across his freckled features. Harry, Hermione and Ginny shared a knowing smile and promptly burst out laughing. Hushes swept round the Hall as the Sorting Hat and Professor McGonagall moved to the centre of the raised platform leading to the Staff Table. Professor McGonagall surveyed the Hall for a few seconds before addressing the assembled numbers in front of her. In a few moments, you will be sorted into your houses, but please wait a few further moment so…" she didn't manage to finish what she was going to say, as a large seam at the front of the hat burst open and began to sing.

"_Over a thousand years have past,_

_Since the spell for my creation was cast._

_Four wizards and witches strong, wise, cunning and true,_

_Started this school for children like you._

_They were a powerful lot: they knew their stuff,_

_Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuff._

_They wanted to create a place where talents could grow,_

"_We'll put everything into you that we know"._

_Ravenclaw wanted those who were clever and wise,_

_Slytherin those who'd do anything to get the prize._

_Hufflepuff those who weren't afraid of work and toil,_

_While Gryffindor sought the brave and loyal._

_So try me on, put me to the test,_

_I'll put you where you'll do best._

_Gryffindor, Ravenclaw,_

_Slytherin or Hufflepuff,_

_Put me on now: you've heard enough."_

A stunned silence passed over the Hall before a wave of thundering applause erupted from the four tables. Ron, amidst the clapping and whooping yelled.

"Brilliant, Bloody Brilliant!"

The Sorting itself only took a couple of minutes, and soon a polite silence settled over the Hall as Headmaster Professor Albus Dumbledore stood up at his podium to speak.

"Good evening. To our newest arrivals, welcome to Hogwarts, and to our older students, welcome back: you've all been missed dearly."

A ripple of laughter came from the tables, and a ripple of grimaces and cold looks were sent in the direction of the Dumbledore's back from the staff. Allowing a few seconds for the odd giggle to die down, he spoke again.

"I will only say a few words before we become happily bloated and sleepy when the food arrives, but first I must ask you to welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Lucia Nirethyls." A murmur of excitement and the odd gasp swept through the Hall as the student realised who their new teacher was going to be this year. Again, pausing for a few seconds, Dumbledore continued.

"Yes, I can say on behalf of all of the staff here that we were all exceptionally honoured when she kindly accepted to fill the post for this year, and I might ask you all to join me when I say good luck to you, Professor Nirethyls." He swept his hand across to where a very proud looking woman was sitting: briefly she rose and made a short bow before sitting back down again. Harry was amused to notice that she not only looked better than most of the teachers in her fine robe: but also two outlines could be made out at her feet under the table, telling everyone who looked that she was well guarded by her two canine escorts.

**Thanks You's:**

**JEDIKNIGHT32**: Thanks for the review, I'm glad you enjoy the story so far and I hope this will satisfy you. Also, I would have read your fanfictions as soon as you notified me, but (and this is a hand on heart moment) every time I try to access your profile and fic's: my computer freezes- I'm sure they are brilliant, and I'll keep trying to read them, so please don't give up on me!

**Wi11ow**: thanks for your review too! It was much appreciated as they all are. Keep reading!


	8. Chapter 8 New Teacher, New Year

Chapter Eight

Harry had always enjoyed the first morning of term: he loved waking up in a soft, warm and very large goose-feather bed, drawing back the heavy drapes that surrounded him and becoming wrapped in a sun-beam which shone in through the window. He revelled in the idea of not being woken up by either Aunt Marge or Uncle Vernon and only the soft chime of a clock. The other thing Harry adored about being back at Hogwarts, was that he had another one and a half hours of time to go after he had woken up: giving him the option of a further half an hour lie-in. He never took the opportunity on the first day of term though- there was always too much to look forward to.

Having got washed, dressed and more or less packed a satchel containing the ordinary school equipment (wand, quill, spare roll of parchment, the now silent homework planner and the Marauder's Map), Harry started to hear others beginning to wake up. In no more than a good half an hour, the other occupants of the sixth year boy's dormitory were in the same state as Harry: all buzzing with the anticipation of a new term. Another five minutes passed before the boys were ready to go. Descending the steps, Harry chatted with his fellow Gryffindors about their new teacher. Seamus was particularly talkative.

"I liked the look of her, but I didn't like the look of those dogs- especially the big black one. What did you say its name was Harry?"

By now, the occurrence on the train was well known and was a favourite topic for gossiping. Harry didn't mind reliving it, and neither seemingly did Ron...

"Oblivion: it's name is Oblivion. Not a very nice looking dog when you first meet it, but the strange thing was that once I had said it's name- it was so tame it was almost unrecognisable! I wonder what breed it is…?" Ron snorted from his left.

"Doesn't matter does it: if it's that dangerous Hagrid will be wanting one too- then we'll get to know _all_ about them." This was greeted by a mixture of snorts of laughter and a groan of agreement from Harry, who by now had experienced more than enough dangerous creatures through Hagrid to last for a lifetime. The conversation didn't seem to end at the creatures that Nirethyls, it passed through the many topics of what she might approach in her lessons, her family, a lot of the time was spent on her profession. By the time they had reached the end of their many topics, they had reached the main entrance hall: so it seemed had two of the teachers. Clearly visible in the centre of the hallway was Professor Nirethyls, standing opposite in the shadows was Professor Snape: both seemed to be mid-way into a conversation.

At just short of ten feet away from the stationary staff, the group of boys stopped just in time to hear the Slytherin ask with strained cool-politeness and familiar sarcasm.

"And what, pray, will you be trying to instil in their heads? How to paint nails or groom a dogs fur?" a snigger could be heard from the fellow Slytherin pupils who made up part of the crowd which had now formed a ring around the two adults. A low growl was enough to silence them as Oblivion rose from where he had been lying at his mistress's heels and stood facing Snape, a soft snarling noise coming from his muzzle. The two ebony eyes of the Potions master took this in, but no other sign of recognition that he could be treading on think ice showed on Snape's face. A dry chuckle came from his adversary as Nirethyls answered his jabbing comment.

"No Severus, I intend to teach them what you have failed to cover as the residential _Potions Master_." A slight amount of emphasis was placed on those last two words, but it was enough to send a ripple of unhidden laughter through the rest of the assembled children of the other three houses: even the two dogs at her heels seemed to react to her words, as the Dachshund puppy let out a low growl and Oblivion rolled his lips back into a silent snarl (which eerily resembled a sneer). Snape's eyes flared with black flames at this come-back, this soon died down as the trademark sneer of his own curled around his thin lips. Raising his inky eyebrow, he murmured.

"Evidently you have not had contact with your old friend Lupin. I seem to recall that he was not always able to maintain a full attendance when it came to teaching, he seemed to deem that it was more important to…" Before he could say anymore, Nirethyls cut across him with a small snarl of her own.

"Yes I have had contact with Remus, and as you so rightly say my dear Severus- he _is_ a good friend. A friend I seem recall from his letters, you so kindly covered for when he was recovering from his…" she paused for a second, thinking of a word to best come up for the condition which affected Lupin,

"illness; but then surely with such a brilliant mind you already realised the seriousness of it and how it affected him and how he could not have been able to teach in that condition! A problem both the staff and the students did not have to put up with for longer than a year thanks to your brilliant idea of informing the students of what he was!"

"I think you mean, what he _is_- Professor. You speak of him as if he has the hope of changing, becoming a person with no permanent flaws." A few confused murmurs escaped from the first, second and third year students who had not been taught by Lupin; from the Slytherins came a mixture of sniggers and giggles, but from the rest of the school there was a series of growls, snarls, gasps and hisses of anger. No matter what the reaction, however, all eyes were fixed on the expressionless face of their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. A few seconds passed before Nirethyls placed her hands on her weapon-loaded belt and whispered.

"Of course, you'd know all about permanent flaws with a past like yours, wouldn't you Severus."

Silence.

The deafening quiet fell cross the assembled wizards and witches like a tidal wave crashing across a beach. Harry had never seen Snape look so frightened and angry at the same time: his skin suddenly looked like a transparent white, the flesh on his face seemed stretched taught across his skull and his hair seemed to quiver with fear and rage. His eyes burned with hatred and his left hand holding his wand seemed to quake with the urge to curse the woman where she stood.

_He's probably never been challenged like that before_, thought Harry. He had only seen something like that happen before in his fourth year between Moody and Snape, but even that seemed tame compared to this. Snape seemed ready to say something, but his eyes suddenly shot to where Nirethyls's hands were, her fingers drumming softly against the dagger on her left hip and wand on the right. They then seemed to swiftly shoot to the now loudly growling black dog at her side which, noticing the glance, started to move forward. Nirethyls also must have acknowledged this, because a hand left the belt and smoothed the fur on Oblivions back, a soft shushing noise falling from her lips- calming the livid canine.

Before anymore could be said, a quiet cough came from the doorway of the Great Hall. Albus Dumbledore was standing with his hands clasped behind his back with a small, humoured smile in his face.

"Is there something wrong here, Professors?"

While Snape remained silent, Nirethyls turned to face the Headmaster.

"Nothing Albus, nothing at all. Severus and I were just catching up for the seventeen years worth of snide comments we've missed." With that, she excused herself saying that she had a class to prepare for. The wall of children (and hovering ghosts) swiftly parted to make room for the Auror to pass; she had taken a couple of steps before stopping and turning around. Only one of her two dogs had followed.

"Oblivion, leave him alone and come here." The black dog stopped his snarling and, with one final look at the Potions Master he had backed into a suit of armour, slunk away towards his mistress (who, Harry was amused to notice, whispered "Good Boy" as he arrived at her heel and smoothed his fur as she walked away).

"Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!" chortled Ron as they sat down for their breakfast.

"What happened?" both Harry and Ron turned round to see their other best friend, Hermione Granger, approaching the table with a wad of papers in her hand (which soon turned out to be timetables). Ron spared no time in filling her in. They were a couple of minutes into their breakfast before the morning mail arrived: Hermione groaned.

"This is it, these are our results arriving now." At those words, all of the sixth years looked up and nervously began to chatter amongst themselves. Within the space of a few short minutes, Harry Ron and Hermione each held a yellowy-brown envelope in their hands. Swallowing, Harry turned to his friends.

"On the count of three?" The other two nodded, neither looking up from their envelope. Licking his lips, Harry started.

"One"

"Two" whispered Ron.

"Three" finished Hermione. A thick ripping sound seemed to echo across the hall as one hundred envelopes were opened. Shaking, Harry unfolded his piece of parchment and read.

"_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Below are the results of the exams you sat the previous spring._

_Pass Grades:_

_O- _

_Outstanding_

_EE-_

_Exceeds Expectations_

_A-_

_Acceptable_

_Failure Grades:_

_P-_

_Poor_

_D-_

_Dunce_

_T-_

_Troll_

Astronomy 

_A_

_Care of Magical Creatures_

_A_

_Charms_

_EE_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts_

_O_

_Divination_

_P_

_Herbology_

_A_

_History of Magic_

_EE_

_Potions_

_EE/O_

_Transfiguration_

_A"_

Harry couldn't believe his eyes, he had passed eight of his nine exams, best of all was his Potions grade: remembering the list of books he was given, his heart skipped: he had been told to buy a book for Potions- he'd passed! Below all of the grades was a small note in very familiar handwriting.

" Harry,

I've had a word with Professor Snape, who seems to be willing to accept you into his class for N.E.W.T level and agrees that your work is more bordering an O than an EE- congratulations.

A. Dumbledore. "

Harry didn't seem to be the only person who was delighted with their grades- Hermione was flushed pink as she accepted that she had received eleven Outstandings our of eleven, and Ron had passed the same number of passes as Harry.

"This is brilliant!" squealed Hermione, "That means that we can all take Potions together!" a small cough came from Harry's right.

"We can't actually Hermione- Snape only accepts Outstandings to enter his class remember? I only got an Acceptable- you two are going to be able to go together, I wont be able to join you." Harry and Hermione shared a look and both looked to see a rather downcast face as Ron continued with his fourth maple-syrup pancake. Deciding to break the ice, Harry put on a fake chuckle and said.

"Oh, come one mate- are you saying you're that upset about missing Snape's classes? I thought you hated the miserable old git!" This seemed to cheer Ron up a bit, as he snorted into his pumpkin juice before adding.

"Yeah, I do: I just want to see how he reacts about Nirethyls that's all." It wasn't long before Hermione cleared her throat and piped up.

"If you two would care to look at your timetables- I think you'll see that we have her first." She was right, first thing on a Monday morning was Defence Against the Dark Arts. All three agreed that this was going to be an enjoyable lesson, despite the fact that they were sharing this class for the sixth year running with Slytherin- in fact, they all agreed that it might make things all the more enjoyable. Soon afterwards, all of the food was eaten and the hour for breakfast had passed: it was time for the school to start a-fresh yet another year.


	9. Chapter 9 Classes, Curses and Clothes

Chapter Nine 

Having had six separate Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, Harry was by now well used to seeing the classroom undergo several changes according to the style and tastes of the teacher.

It had been through the gloomy period when Harry was taught by Professor Quirrel; passed through seemingly unscathed the time when its walls were bulging with pictures of their second teacher Professor Lockhart, it seemed to miss it's walls once teaming with magical creatures and curious looking trinkets when Harry's favourite teacher Professor Lupin was there; it had been laden with heavy looking books and demented portrayals of the effects some curses have with Moody, and had just recovered from being plastered with grotesquely cute, fluffy kittens when Harry had been taught by Professor Umbridge. Now the room seemed to vibrate with an essence of all five of his previous teachers.

As usual, the room had long and strange shadows cast over it by the Dragon skeleton, but now a new skeleton stood next to it- a complete rearing Unicorn's skeleton: it's horn reaching into the sky at five, maybe six feet long. The room had always contained six or seven bookshelves, but now these seemed to be brimming with different shaped vials of strange looking liquids, preserved claws of some strange beast, skulls of all species of magical creatures leered out from the topmost shelves and- sitting isolated on a shelf of its own, a bejewelled dagger which glinted in the light- it's hilt decorated with a golden crown with a single, rectangular ruby nestled in its centre. Along the higher walls, above the bookcases, were four long, thin, flat cabinets- each engraved with the name of a curse. The walls not containing a bookshelf were lined with long wooden benches- each contained a stand holding weapons of every sort- all seemed to refract the light shining through the windows so that it reflected around the room.

After five or so minutes, the door leading to Professor Nirethyls's Office opened and out strode the teacher, accompanied closely by her dogs. The seated Slytherins and Gryffindors all seemed to hold their breath as their teacher for the year crossed to her desk where she remained standing, one hand resting on a corner of the table. Harry couldn't help but smile as he noticed Kaiser padded over to his wickerwork basket in the one free corner of the room: while Oblivion, on the other hand, sat down right next to his mistress's heel.

Harry saw Nirethyls's eyes sweep the room and it's occupants, taking notes about every one of her new pupils, before finally stopping. She spoke- authority heaped into her every word.

"Good morning, welcome to your first N.E.W.T Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. As you are fully aware, my name is Lucia Nirethyls- and I will be teaching you this year…" she was cut short when Seamus interrupted.

"Why do you say that Professor?" Nirethyls looked at Seamus, her features cool and calm, yet her eyes looked as if they held a sarcastic comment.

"What do you mean by that Mr. Finnegan?" She raised an eyebrow as Seamus blushed- sliding down in his seat as he spoke under his new teachers piercing gaze, then said in a croaky whisper.

"I just…well… I didn't think you would say for a year only…" His blush worsened as Nirethyls continued.

"You thought that I would not anticipate leaving?" He nodded. A corner of Nirethyls's mouth lifted into a knowing smile and, despite the piercing look in her eyes, said more kindly.

"I think by your sixth year Seamus that you should know Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers do not last here: and might I also be so bold as to remind you that I am still an Auror in the Ministry?" Seamus sat up as he joined the rest of the room laughed- not a roar, but a soft one as if they did not know how to react. Nodding at the reaction, Nirethyls ended the laughter by clearing her throat. The silence returned to the room, all eyes on the woman at the front. Noting that she had everyone's attention again, she walked over to her left (naturally, Oblivion followed) and took out her wand. She didn't even need to ask for them to look as she tuned to face her class again. Looking above her, she flicked her wand four times and the four cabinets opened: for the first time, the class saw what they contained.

"As you might have guessed by the names of the five "Unforgivable" Curses on the front, these robes are the remains of the five people who have been cursed by them." Her voice rang across the empty room: it was a well known fact that only two of the teachers in Hogwarts had the gift of being able to attract undivided attention, and they were Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. Now it seemed there were three.

"So, now you have seen these robes, I'm sure you have all come to the conclusion of what I will be teaching you first." She paused, an ordinary person would be seen for trying to do it if for a dramatic effect, for Nirethyls it just seemed to come naturally. "I will be teaching you how to recognise and block an Unforgivable Curse, both with and without wands. If I feel that you have made a positive enough progression, I will also be teaching you how to cast them." Now the silence that had been held for over twenty minutes was broken by the gasps and excited mutterings of the pupils. Harry looked around him to see Draco Malfoy talking excitedly with Crabbe and Goyle: he heard the familiar snort of his best friend.

"Look at him- he's probably delighted to get the chance to curse someone accurately- and with a good reason to boot. He'd probably use the "Oh I was only practicing Professor" routine."

Harry nodded in agreement- if there was one thing he could rely on Ron for, it was a sarcastic comment about Malfoy and this one didn't seem to disappoint. The sound of a throat clearing brought the silence back and the class as a whole turned back to their teacher.

"Right, now that I have your attention I would like to stop whatever hopes of cursing your rivals might be going through your heads and warn you. I will be teaching you how to block and repel these curses and I fully agree that there will be some accidents; however, if any of you are under the impression that you can fool me into believing that you have cast one of these curses either under the hold of, or practicing one: I. Will. Not. I have spent long enough time in my true profession to be able to recognise a fully meant curse when I see one being cast or the effects of one."

Harry smirked: the words that she had just spoken seemed to correspond exactly with what he and Ron had just been discussing.

"Now, can anyone tell me that they have not heard what I have just said- because that is my first and last warning: I will not be repeating it to anybody who I know has not heard it. No? Then let us continue." Looking back at the cabinets, she pocketed her wand in her belt and indicated with a nod of her head to the closest cabinet. She began to pace in between the desks.

"This first cabinet- or the cabinet on the far right- contains the robes of someone who has been held under the influence of the Crucio curse. Now, I am aware that your previous teacher Alastor Moody touched a little on the effects of this curse by demonstrating on a spider- but the effect on the spider will be slightly different from that on a human. Can anyone tell me what the difference is?" As could be expected Hermione's hand shot up in the air, but that wasn't what attracted Professor Nirethyls's attention: it was the soft whispering voice next to her.

"It's more painful."

All eyes in the room flicked to the sober looking boy sitting next to Hermione: it was Neville Longbottom. Professor Nirethyls looked at Neville for a second before saying in a voice tinged with recognition.

"You're Neville, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question. Neville looked up to meet his Professor's gaze. He nodded.

Nirethyls frowned slightly, then said quietly.

"Yes, yes I thought you were. You'll forgive me- you probably don't like people telling you this: but I knew your parents, and I can't even begin to describe how brave they were. I'm guessing you know this because of what happened to them?" again, a nod, "Yes, you're quite right: it is more painful."

She broke the gaze she was holding with the boy in front of her to address the class again.

"The Crucio Curse was specifically designed for use on humans only as a method of torture in the past to retrieve information from captured spies or enemies: however, it was not used as horrifically as it is today. The curse was only meant to be used for a maximum of five seconds at a time: something Lord Voldermort and his Death Eater followers seemed to have forgotten. Now, in this cabinet here," she pointed to the cabinet next to the one she had just been talking about: it contained the remains of a robe which seemed to have been torn to shreds, "is the result of the Imperius curse. And before any of you say that it does not harm the person when it is cast, I agree, it does not: this is the result of someone who has unwillingly killed themselves by walking into a wood while under it's affect on a Full Moon." A collective gasp and following cries rose from the students as they realised what had happened. Harry, Rona and Hermione all shared a terrified look- none of them had forgotten the close shave they had experienced with the hairier side of Professor Lupin.

"The Imperius," she continued, "is probably one of the most dangerous of the "Unforgivables": it may not harm the person instantly, but the command given to the person under it's control could. Moving swiftly on, this next cabinet holds a set of robes from a person who has been under the most fatal of these curses- the Avada Kedavra. I don't think I need to go into great details on this one, but I will ask you to notice the current state of the robes: they are in pristine condition, not a thread out of place. This is why it is the most favoured of the curses- it is the most deadly and the curse will leave no evidence of it being used: so to the untrained eye or a muggle, there is no way of recognising the use of one." Professor Nirethyls had just started to walk away when Hermione's hand shot up into the air once more.

"Um, excuse me Professor. You haven't told us what the final curse is." Her voice had faded away as Nirethyls had stopped walking and was standing stock still. There was a smothering quiet over the class as they waited for their Professor to speak. They didn't have to wait long.

"You're right Hermione, forgive me. The final cabinet contains the robes of someone who was hit by the "Actaest Fabula" curse." Hermione gasped, and Harry was stunned to hear Malfoy say.

"But that curse hasn't been used in years- and it would take an exceptionally dark wizard to cast it!" Now Nirethyls had turned round and was facing Malfoy with a cold smile on her face.

"Yes, it did Mr. Malfoy- a very powerful wizard _did_ cast it. It was not cast a long time ago either- it was cast relatively presently."

Hermione spoke soon after Nirethyls had finished speaking, but her voice was by no means loud.

"They can't have survived that- there's hardly anything of it left." She was right: the clothes gave the idea of once being a grand battle robe, along with a dragon-hide chest plate and re-enforced shi, knee and shoulder pads made of the same leather. But the present state of them could hardly be further from grand. The whole of the left shoulder and upper arm section was missing- only the lower arm sleeve was left: the edges were tattered and had a singed look. Part of the chest piece had been burned away as well, it was linked to the hole where the left sleeve would have been, but the edges were not just tattered: it was as though someone had drawn a flame design on the area and had then clean-cut it away, because the edges were clear and defined, but at the same time charred as if burned by a blazing flame.

"They did actually- barely, they somehow survived by some miracle: but yes Hermione, they did survive."

It seemed as though Harry was bursting with the question, so much that it exploded from his mouth in a blur of words.

"Did you know them!"

For the first time since he had met her on the train, Harry heard the fighting flame in Nirethyls's voice die: it became toneless, flat. She didn't look at him when she answered: her eyes were glued to the robes and a strange look was in her eye, like she was trying to remember something that had happened a long time ago, which pained her to relive.

"Yes, I knew them."

"Both of them?" Harry felt a jabbing in his ribs as Hermione rammed her elbow into his side, and yet he got his answer in one simple word.

"Both"


End file.
